I realized with a jolt of fear that I could no longer remember what any of the numbers meant. The pain pulsed again, deeper and more aggressive this time, making my vision blur for a few seconds. I pressed my palm against my side beneath the desk and shifted my weight carefully in the hard plastic chair.
I tried to tell myself that I had simply pulled a muscle during gym class or that I was suffering from a bout of indigestion. I began constructing excuses for my own body before anyone else had the chance to accuse me of lying. This was another habit I had learned at home, as I was always prepared to defend myself before the trial even began.
My name is Kellan Thorne, and I had spent the majority of my life being treated like an unwelcome reminder of my mother’s past. Meredith Thorne had become pregnant with me during her second year at the university in Nashville. That was the only part of the story she ever shared consistently.
The rest of the details changed depending on who was listening to her. Sometimes she claimed my biological father had simply vanished into thin air, and other times she said he was a dangerous, unstable man who only loved the idea of a family until things got difficult. When I was a child, I believed every word she said because children have no choice but to trust the parent who stays.
His name was Harrison Fletcher, and I knew almost nothing about him other than the fact that I looked exactly like him. That resemblance seemed to be the original sin I carried with me into every room I entered. I had the same dark, deep-set eyes and the same stubborn, square chin.
My hair was a thick, unruly brown that refused to stay flat regardless of how much gel I used. My mother once told a neighbor at a backyard barbecue that living with me was like living with her ex-husband’s ghost every single day. She laughed as if she were telling a harmless joke, and Rick laughed along with her.
Rick Gentry had entered our lives when I was eight years old. He worked in industrial lighting, owned a collection of expensive sunglasses, and firmly believed that biting sarcasm was a valid form of leadership. He moved his belongings into our small house with the confidence of a man who had decided a family was something he could rearrange to suit his own needs.